


Homeland

by Empatheia



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Empatheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wisely takes Lavi home, just for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeland

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday fic for my dear friend [Crane](http://wiselavi.tumblr.com). ♥

“We barely had a hand in that,” Wisely protested.

“You assassinated the heir apparent! Everyone agrees that the assassination was the trigger for the--”

“It would have happened anyway, we just helped the process along a little.”

“A lot.”

“Suit yourself.”

Lavi glared across the table at Wisely, who was obviously not intimidated in the least. Lavi, of course, only had one eye to glare with, while Wisely had five. Granted, two of them seemed purely decorative rather than functional, but three was already more eyes than any decent person ought to have. It was hardly a fair fight.

At least he was better-looking, he consoled himself mulishly. If only by a little. He’d take any small victory he could get.

“Chess?” Wisely suggested after a few stubbornly silent minutes.

He didn’t actually mean chess. Wisely’s particular talent meant he couldn’t play fair at games of strategy even if he wanted to, and Lavi’s meant most card games were off the table for the same reason. He meant the monstrosity they’d made of chess via alteration and expansion, which now involved a great deal more unforeseeable chance than skill. There were dice, and tokens, and scorecards, and every piece now corresponded to a real historical figure to make things more interesting. Or spur a lot of arguments, which seemed to mean the same thing.

Lavi didn’t want to play “chess.” He didn’t really want to argue about history anymore, either, though he did enjoy both of those things. Even entertaining pastimes get stale if one does nothing else for weeks on end.

“Or we could go for a walk,” he countered, already knowing what the answer would be.

As predicted, Wisely’s face started making an expression he was only too familiar with. Desperate, he pushed onward before Wisely could say anything.

“Come on, it’s my birthday.”

Wisely raised his eyebrows. Doing that sort of folded his extra eyes up and made them look like they were squinting at whoever he was looking at. Unsettling, to say the least. “Your birthday? Really? I thought you said it was August 10th.”

“I did,” said Lavi, “because I’ve been using that for years, but I chose it at random for my current alias. Today is my  _ real _ birthday.”

“What a coincidence, mine too,” Wisely said with a grin that Lavi know was meant to ease the sting of his clear denial.

Lavi rolled his eye, unappeased. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious!” Wisely protested. “I mean, not this particular body’s birthday. That was in February. But it’s been my birthday before, twice. Earlier on.”

“Oh,” said Lavi, believing that easily enough. “Well, then, if it’s both of our birthdays, we deserve a treat.”

Wisely grimaced. “You know I can’t--”

“I’m not asking you to drop me off in London and leave me to my own devices for a few hours,” Lavi interrupted. “I’m not an idiot, and I know you aren’t either. This isn’t me angling for a chance to make a break for it. Open the gate somewhere totally uninhabited, if you’re worried. The South Pole. Siberia. Some godforsaken rock in the middle of the ocean. I don’t care, just let me out of here for five freaking minutes. I’m begging you.”

The suspicion in Wisely’s eyes didn’t fade a whit, but he sat back and steepled his fingers like he was actually considering it.

“If it were up to Sheril, you’d still be in that chair, you know,” Wisely said quietly. “I’m already doing more than I probably should for you, because I like Bookmen, and because I like you. It might not be wise to push it.”

“I’m not asking Sheril,” said Lavi. “I’m asking you. If I end up back in the chair, at least I’ll have some fresh air in my lungs to keep me going.”

Wisely sighed. “Well, since it’s your birthday, maybe I can take one more risk for you. If you make me regret it, I’ll get out of Sheril’s way.”

Lavi shuddered. Wisely was dangerous enough in his own right, ancient and amoral and extremely powerful, but he had little interest in hurting Lavi. The same could not in any way be said for Sheril. That had been more than an idle warning.

“Ten-four,” said Lavi, scrubbing at the gooseflesh on his arms.

After scrutinizing him for a moment, Wisely apparently decided that that was an acceptable response and stood up.

Lavi followed suit, and kept pace as Wisely headed for the gate. He hoped Wisely wouldn’t actually bring him to the South Pole. He’d take that, if it was the best he could get, but he wasn’t dressed for the weather and five minutes of said fresh air might actually kill him.

There were worse ways to go, he knew. Many, many worse ways than that.

When they stepped through the gate onto terra firma, however, there was no ice or snow under his feet, just a thin crop of low grass. Here and there the pale purples and bright yellows of wild marjoram and hypericum streaked the understated green canvas. 

A low bowl of sharp-edged peaks surrounded the high alpine valley they’d landed in. The air was cool, but not uncomfortably so, not yet. It was late summer and the sun was still well above the knife-edge ridge bordering the valley to the west. A number of sheep grazed at the far end in a little white cluster, unperturbed by their sudden arrival. There was no shepherd in sight. A lone shepherd wouldn’t have been a problem for Lavi’s gaoler anyway.

For a long moment, it didn’t feel real.

He knew this land. It was in his bones.

Lavi dragged in a deep breath of familiar air, and another, and then several more in slow succession until he felt dizzy.

The air in the room below was always still and heavy. Nobody dealt well with prolonged confinement in enemy hands, but he had a wanderer’s soul and it had pained him so much to be so immobile for so long. That hard mountain air was medicine to him, a cool draught dissolving away the calcification of his innards.

When he’d had as much as he could take without passing out, he bent down and flopped over onto the dry, prickly ground.

If he grew wings and flew north from here, he knew, he would find the shores of Ysyk-Köl, the great warm lake. South, and he might happen across the ancient oasis city Kashgar, where he had first glimpsed the broad ocean that was the history of the world and learned to hunger for its secrets. He knew where he was. This was the first map he had ever drawn.

Home. 

“Happy birthday,” Wisely said softly.

Lavi looked up at him, shielding his eyes from the white sun. “I really hate it when you read my memories, you know,” he said.

“I know.”

“I’ll get you back for it someday.” Not the first time he’d made that promise, and not likely to be the last, but it had less heat in it today than usual. He sat up and stared around at the expansive wilderness, the cradle of stone and grass and sky he’d grown up in. “You’re not forgiven. But thanks for this.”

Wisely had no response. Lavi hadn’t expected one.

This didn’t make up for anything, and they both knew better than to pretend it did, but it  _ was _ a gift and he wasn’t ungrateful.

The idea of going back to that low-ceilinged basement from this made his soul want to curl up and wither into dust inside him, but he had no way out, not yet, and at least now he’d have this memory of the sky to hold onto. It might keep him going a while longer. Until Wisely capitulated and let them go regardless of Sheril’s wishes, until he and the old man found their own way out, or until some outside force like the Order came to their belated rescue.

Lavi had the mountains in his blood. He could outlast this, he decided.

The sun set and full dark closed in, that open sky suddenly ravaged by stars. He lay on his back and watched them whirl until the last of the sun’s warmth left him and he began to shiver.

When Wisely opened the gate to take them back to hell, he didn’t protest.

He would take the mountains with him when he went.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone doesn't feel like googling, they're in the region of central Asia currently known as the Kyrgyz Republic, which is my personal headcanon for Lavi's birthplace.


End file.
